Robert Levin and the Academy of Ancient Music pick up their Mozart piano concerto cycle where they left off quarter of a century ago. Meanwhile Maxim Emelyanychev and Il Pomo d’Oro launch a brand-new survey of the symphonies, with added extras – in this case, coincidentally, a piano concerto. Levin was a young warrior at the front line of period performance when he embarked upon his cycle with Christopher Hogwood 30 years ago, only a year or two older than Emelyanychev is now. Of course, approaches to period performance and Mozart have evolved over the past three decades but the similarities between the established musicians and the (relatively) young challenger are perhaps more telling than the differences.

Improvisatory freedom was a feature (and, indeed, a selling-point) of Levin’s cycle back in the Nineties. He improvised his cadenzas and lead-ins, and allowed himself a free hand as far as ornamentation and embellishment of lines was concerned. There can be few keyboard players more thoroughly drenched in Mozartian style than Levin, and his incursions – thoughtful, cheeky, inventive, resourceful – are always true to the spirit of the music. He joins in the tuttis, too, which some may feel blunts the contrast between orchestral and solo passages, for all its authenticity.

Following an immersion in the previous volumes, one is aware of the greater space around the recorded sound (the venue is now St John’s Smith Square, London) and the greater opportunities for the orchestra, especially the woodwind, to assert their own individual characters: get an earful, especially, of the ominous horns in the opening tutti of the C minor Concerto, K491, or the succulent clarinets throughout the work. Perhaps the one loss is a slight limitation to the dynamic range of the piano (a Chris Maene replica of a five-octave Anton Walter), especially when one recalls the delicious diminuendos with which Levin teased at the close of certain finales in those earlier recordings.

Maxim Emelyanychev takes a similar tack in the A major Concerto, K488, directing from the keyboard (although not joining in the tuttis). His replica of a slightly later Conrad Graf (again by Chris Maene) has a somewhat softer attack than the ‘ping’ of Levin’s, which especially suits this most graceful of all the concertos. The sound picture here, though, favours strings over woodwinds, to the extent that you’re barely aware of the unique sound imparted to the work by the clarinets until some way in; the flute sounds somewhat distant in the slow movement, the woodwind answers in the finale’s opening tutti sadly subdued.

Both pianists are at their most freely creative in slow movements: Levin taking liberties with tempo in K467’s Andante as well as emroidering the line (and see how you feel about the violins’ scoop up to the top note of the opening phrase), Emelyanychev opening K488’s Andante with the damper pedal engaged before moving progressively off-script as the movement goes on. You will know whether or not this approach appeals to you; for those who prefer these particular lilies ungilded, I can do no better to recommend, among recent recordings, Leif Ove Andsnes and the Mahler Chamber Orchestra, albeit on modern instruments (Sony, 6/21, 5/22).

The main attraction on the Pomo d’Oro recording is the pair of symphonies – Mozart’s first and last. The eight-year-old’s K16 is a little wonder: for all its paucity of development (and the editorial hand of father Leopold), the material is unfailingly memorable, and marshalled with taste and no small amount of skill. The Jupiter, though, is undeniably a different matter. Once more the lack of woodwind presence becomes a major stumbling block: while oboes and horns are pungent and piquant in the early symphony, they, along with bassoons and (particularly deleteriously) flute, are relegated to a subsidiary place in the overall mix. Matters are better in the Andante cantabile than in the opening movement but even here wind lines emerge undefined from the string texture, rather than standing out against it. This is a disaster in the finale, where the woodwind play such a vital role in contributing to the contrapuntal melee. Yes, the trumpets trump and the timpani timp – and the string-playing is magnificent – but whole woodwind lines simply disappear into the texture.

This is particularly frustrating, since Emelyanychev gave notice of his profound understanding of Mozart’s greatest music when he performed the three last symphonies with the Scottish Chamber Orchestra in a televised BBC Prom in August 2021. He displays the same deep involvement and a generous streak of individuality throughout this programme, which at least bodes well for later instalments, even if this is one for people who particularly want to hear the string parts in the Jupiter.